


Show Me

by Yahtzee



Series: UB Season Five: New York, New York [11]
Category: Ugly Betty
Genre: Canon Trans Character, F/M, First Time, Parenthood, Past Relationship(s), baby swap, disturbing uses of mayonnaise (implied), the Ozarks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-27
Updated: 2011-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yahtzee/pseuds/Yahtzee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who's the real Daniel Meade? The question sends Daniel halfway across the country ... but Betty's the one with the answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me

Daniel didn’t know a whole lot about science. He’d skated through the Harvard requirements by taking a bunch of geology courses, but his day-to-day life rarely asked him to distinguish sedimentary rocks from igneous. Certainly he’d never before attempted to analyze a DNA test.

It didn’t take a whole lot of expertise to figure out what “Probability of match: 99.89%” meant.

“Daniel?” Betty’s soft hand against his arm brought him back, unwillingly, to the here and now. “This could be a fake. It has to be.”

“If it’s a fake, why did he hide it from us?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Even his Betty – who seemed to have the right answers for everything – couldn’t solve this one for him.

Finally she said, “Let’s take a picture of it. You put your phone in your back pocket, right?”

“Yeah, but – why a picture?”

“Well, we can’t take it with us,” Betty rationalized. “Then he’ll know we were in here.”

For the first time in what felt like years, Daniel remembered that he’d just broken into Chaniel’s hotel room, which was probably illegal even if they didn’t take anything out of it. Alexis was keeping Chaniel busy across town at the Algonquin, but he’d come back eventually. By that time, they needed to be out of there and to have left no traces behind. Daniel couldn’t have cared less about getting caught – it was tough to care about much of anything, at the moment, besides the sheet of paper in his hands. But he remained enough himself to realize that Betty couldn’t be mixed up in this any more than she already was.

“We don’t need a picture,” he said. “If it’s fake – ”

“It is!”

“—nobody would be able to prove that from a photo. Let’s just put it back.”

Daniel tried to fold the sheet neatly the way it had been, but he realized his hands were shaking too much. Tenderly Betty folded her fingers around his; their eyes met, and it seemed to him that she was the only thing in his whole world that hadn’t just been turned inside out and made horrible. He gave the paper to her and steadied his hands against her shoulders as she put it back in its envelope and closed the safe.

Briefly he was distracted from the roaring panic in his brain while he and Betty discussed how best to go back up the chain ladder dangling outside the window, but then Betty realized they could just go out through the front door, return to their own room via the elevator and then haul the ladder back up behind them. This definitely beat hanging his ass from the outside of the building one more time.

Once they were again alone in their room, chain ladder folded away in its little sack, Daniel sat heavily on the edge of the bed. His legs felt watery, and his stomach was strongly considering rejecting his dinner.

Betty snuggled beside him, and he leaned into her embrace. “We should probably leave soon,” she said. “We don’t want Chaniel to see us walking through the lobby.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “I know this isn’t how you always wanted your catburglar fantasy to end.”

“Hey. Fantasy is all well and good, but this is reality, okay? And I want to be here for you.” Her thumb stroked along his arm. “Seriously, I still think this is probably nothing but – as of now, I get why you’re so freaked out.”

She looked so beautiful in her black outfit, her full lips pursed in a worried frown. Daniel dipped his face to hers for a brief kiss, but no more. “I wish it had been something obviously fake. Not only because it would have put my mind at ease, but we’d also be doing a lot of celebrating tonight.”

“We’ll celebrate soon.” Betty nuzzled her lips against his throat. “All night. When it’s time, and you feel like it.”

As if he didn’t feel like it. The way she looked now – eyes bright and cheeks rosy from descending the ladder, shining hair beautifully mussed from their race down the hallway – that would put any man in the mood. Daniel could imagine it too well: pushing her back down on the bed, peeling off those tight black clothes and making love to her all night long. Drowning himself in her, losing every uncertainty in the pure sensation of their bodies together. Just envisioning it tested his resolve and brought him that close to tackling her, this second.

But he didn’t want his first night with Betty to be about forgetting something else.

They kissed again, sweet and soft. Then Betty turned businesslike, the way she often did when she thought he was in danger of wallowing in his own depression. “Okay. Let’s clear out. I’ll change in the bathroom this time, and then we’ll go do something. A movie, maybe. Anything to get your mind off this until we can do something constructive about it.”

“Save the catburglar outfit,” he said. “For later.”

She grinned, and he saw another flash of how different this night could have been – how completely he could have fulfilled her catburglar role-playing for her, and just how much fun they would have had in the process.

But that was only fantasy. This hollowed-out feeling that put a barrier between him and everything in the world, even Betty – this was his new reality.

**

“I know the Algonquin’s kind of old school,” Alexis said, “but that’s why I like it.”

It was the sort of place Dad used to bring her for drinks, back when she was a he, and in truth, she didn’t care for it much at all. Sure, it was beautiful – thirty-foot ceilings, heavy woodwork, Chinese silk wallpapers, and thick overstuffed chairs and sofas to embrace the guests as they sipped their $20 cocktails. The place even came complete with a fluffy Persian cat, Matilda, who strolled imperiously through the revelers, acknowledging them only with a flick of her tail.

But it would always remind Alexis of her father, and the fraught silences between them during the era when Dad still thought he could keep her from her true self. So she could never love this place like it deserved.

No reason to share all that with Chaniel, though.

Chaniel, for his part, seemed well-pleased with his surroundings. “Old school suits me just fine. I’d think you were a more modern kind of girl. Seeing as how you are, in fact, a girl these days.”

How much had this viper learned about them from Tyler’s therapy sessions? Alexis hated not knowing. It was like trying to play poker when you suspected the guy across the table had gotten a peek at your hand.

Smoothly, Chaniel continued, “Where’s your son tonight?”

“With his grandmother.” Should she have said, _with Daniel_? To provide better cover for her little brother’s bizarre espionage mission? Personally Alexis thought it was a stupid errand, but she couldn’t blame Daniel for wanting to strike back at this jerk.

“He lives with his grandparents most of the time, doesn’t he? His maternal grandparents, I mean. Or is that a faux pas? I suppose D.J. is in the rare position of having only maternal grandparents. At any rate, I look forward to finally being an uncle.”

“You’re not his uncle.” _D.J. doesn’t belong to you_ , she wanted to add. But that felt like a weak argument, because it was hard sometimes to even feel as if he belonged to her. Although they were forging a friendship, she still felt nothing like D.J.’s parent … and she knew that the one D.J. truly loved that way was Daniel.

In other words, Chaniel was trying to take away the only father her son had.

Chaniel said, “You’ve got a bit of a competitive streak, don’t you?”

Alexis could hardly resist laughing. “Are you trying to impress me with how insightful you are? Please. Anybody who’s been within 100 yards of me knows that. As if my being captain of the Harvard track team wasn’t hint enough.”

“And I take it you can still run in heels.” Chaniel’s eyes swept along her body, coolly assessing. There was no hint of flirtation there – he stayed in-character – but something about his judgment unnerved her. It wasn’t the curiosity, the way he looked at her as more of an object than a person; sadly, that was just part of what an open transsexual had to deal with from strangers.

But this guy was pretending to be more than a stranger, and yet he looked at her with such coldness. Mom and Daniel, even at their most surprised and confused, had never looked at her that way. Dad …

Dad’s stare had been just like that.

Disquieted, Alexis took another swig of her cocktail. “Listen. This is a weird time for my family.”

“Is there a time that isn’t weird for our family? The tabloids suggest not.”

“My family doesn’t need this kind of crap right now,” Alexis said. “If you pursue this to the limit, you’ll never see a dime. But I’m willing to give you ten thousand dollars to sign a waiver and walk away, this second. Just to buy us some peace and quiet.”

It was an impulsive offer – one she hadn’t discussed with the rest of the family – but it would serve as a decent pretext for their meeting tonight. And hey, maybe he’d take the cash. Her lips curled at the thought of announcing to Daniel that his Spider-Man hijinks had been useless after all; he’d be relieved, and a little bit chagrined, which was just how she liked to keep her younger brother.

But Chaniel said, “Please. You’ve spent that much money on table service one night in Vegas. Don’t insult me.”

“You’ve insulted me,” Alexis retorted. “And my whole family with this ridiculous game.”

“It’s not a game.” Chaniel stood and brushed off his suit. “When you finally understand who I am, you’ll regret this, I’m sure. Let’s take the apologies as given. So when you learn the truth, we can have a fresh start.” With that, he walked out, calling over one shoulder, “You’ll get the tab, I take it?”

The son of a bitch was insufferable.

In some very familiar ways …

**

“You had … amnesia?” The receptionist at NYRB might have a bigger vocabulary than Amanda, but she had the exact same disdainful stare. “Seriously?”

“Trauma-induced. From the hostage crisis. And the whack on the head.” Betty tried to say all this smoothly, but there was no way to not make it sound a little bit crazy. Swiftly she continued, “But I’m back, and I’m fine, and I’m totally ready for today’s story conference!”

“Sure.” The receptionist didn’t look convinced, but she wasn’t the person Betty was most concerned about winning over. Jackson Noble and her fellow editors were the ones whose opinions mattered most in the short term; the rest of the staff would come around, given time. Hadn’t she won over everybody at MODE?

Thinking of MODE naturally made her think of Daniel, who had sat glumly through the movie last night … though anybody’s mood would be darkened by realizing they’d paid good money to watch “Prince of Persia.” Although Betty remained convinced that Chaniel was nothing but a con artist, there was no doubting that he’d done a number on Daniel’s head. Daniel, who could suffer days of insecurity over whether his shirt cuffs were peeking or peeping from his jacket sleeves, simply was not built to handle this kind of thing well.

So in her precious few seconds before the story conference began, she texted, _How are you holding up?_

He answered instantly: _Didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. At least I’m losing weight._

 _That is a total chick line, Daniel. Besides, you need to take care of yourself._

 _I’ll eat a banana._

 _That doesn’t count as taking care of yourself!_

 _Talking to you counts._ This was followed by a little heart, which made Betty grin for the split second before she realized she was about to be late for her meeting.

She managed to scoot into the conference room at the last possible moment that it wouldn’t look like rushing. Although she caught a few raised eyebrows, for the most part people didn’t seem to have taken undue notice of her extended vacation, and the main person who counted – her editor, Jackson Noble – smiled in apparently sincere welcome. “Betty! Glad you could join us.”

“Glad to be back,” she said. Although it was her second day back at work, she’d spent the first holed up in her office, making up for lost time on the draft of her first story. This was sort of like her unveiling as the sane, solid professional she really was. Or at least tried to be.

As another editor began talking about her article on Orhan Pamuk, Betty’s phone vibrated in her palm. Since she didn’t have a whole lot to say about Turkey’s foremost author, she stole a glance at the screen, expecting to see another crisis message from Daniel.

Instead, the text was from Hilda: _Good news! The whole family’s staying together in Queens this weekend!_

Betty’s first thought was that it was probably better for Justin and Austin to stay put; the poor kids were still traumatized after Mrs. Starkey’s cruel rejection of her son, and they were more likely to get a little privacy in the Queens house than at Bobby’s place.

Then she remembered that she’d been planning on inviting Daniel out to Queens for the weekend, so she could still take care of Papi while keeping Daniel from freaking out non-stop. Daniel was at his best when he forgot his own concerns helping to look after others; an evening with her father would have helped him relax, and made sure he ate, too – nobody could resist the empanadas. And after Dad went to sleep – well, she was still having naughty thoughts about curling up beside Daniel in that recliner –

But with Hilda, Bobby, Justin and Austin in the house too? Forget it. She and Daniel would never get a moment’s peace, and while she hoped he’d soon be spending the night out there with her regularly, Betty balked at taking Daniel to bed for the first time with her entire family waving them goodbye down the hall. Hilda would probably eavesdrop, maybe shout suggestions through the wall.

Even as Betty shuddered at the thought, her phone vibrated again. Once more, the message was from Hilda: _We are seriously overdue for some girl talk. Can’t wait to catch up!_

Betty had missed their girl talks desperately during the past couple of months. While she understood that Hilda deserved her newlywed phase, Betty had sometimes needed a sisterly perspective that she’d had to do without.

Still – did it have to be now? Months without a heart-to-heart chat, and Hilda finally made time for her just as Betty needed that time for her and Daniel?

With a sigh, she typed back, _Great!_

She’d think of some other time to devote to Daniel. Maybe he could come by for the afternoon and they could … sneak out for a while? Or an early dinner tonight, with an equally early swing by his place – she hadn’t even been in his new apartment, at least not since he’d actually moved into it. That hardly seemed adequate for the crisis he was in, or much of an opportunity to finally go to bed together, but it was better than nothing.

Wasn’t it?

And then she went back to listening to the meeting, and tried to think of something to say about Orhan Pamuk, because if she was simultaneously failing sisterhood and girlfriend-being, she could at least stay professional.

**

Daniel tossed his banana peel in the trash can as he strolled into his mother’s office at HOT FLASH. Last March’s brilliant-gold cover with Susan Sarandon hung, newly-framed, behind the big desk where Mom sat in front of piles of papers. “Is this actual business news, or are you about to sneak me a tranquilizer?”

“Please. Like I could get my hands on any Valium.” Mom sighed as she rested her chin in one hand. “Doctors get so strange about prescribing tranquilizers to alcoholics. As though I could mix myself a Xanax martini.” Her gaze turned thoughtful. “A Xanax-tini? That would sell.”

“Today, I’d order three,” he admitted. “But I’m all right, Mom.” That was stretching the truth a bit, unless severe anxiety and some stomach cramps counted as “all right,” but he didn’t want to worry her.

“I didn’t call you in here to drug you or bug you about MODE. I called you in here to see the latest from my private investigator.”

Why hadn’t he thought of that? “She dug up some dirt on Chad Pulaski?”

“Not dirt, exactly, but information. There could be something in here for us to use.”

Quickly Daniel took a seat in front of his mother’s desk; she circled around to sit beside him, iPad in hand. It wasn’t necessary for her to sit beside him for this, but he understood, instinctively, that she wanted to be closer to him right now; he felt the same way about her. About Tyler, and Alexis and D.J. Like he hadn’t even understood how good it felt just to sit next to someone and know they were your family until – until he didn’t know for sure any more.

“Chad Pulaski,” Mom announced, pulling up an image of him in high school: standard senior portrait stuff, though in some ways the resemblance to the younger Alex was even more striking there. “He appears to be telling the truth about his birth date and the hospital, I’m afraid. That’s probably what gave him the idea for this stunt in the first place.”

“Sure.” Daniel tried to swallow the knot in his throat. “That must be it.”

Briskly, his mother continued flipping through the images – collage paper photos, now, showing a robust young athlete, a student government leader, a scholarship student whose straight As must have funded his whole education. “He’s the son of Bob and Cindy Pulaski, lifelong residents of Ozarkville. According to the Meade Publications database, Cindy’s actually a HOT FLASH subscriber. So she’s obviously a woman of class and taste. How she raised such a reprobate son, I can’t imagine.”

“You’re a woman of class and taste, and you raised me and Alexis.”

“Point taken,” Mom said dryly. “Chad’s criminal record begins and ends with a DUI when he was visiting New Orleans at 23. However, his employment record is … interesting. He’s been in finance, small-time stuff for the most part, but working his way up the ladder. A couple of the firms he left have been brought up on insider trading charges – but always after he got the hell out of Dodge.”

Daniel considered this. “So he probably bends the law, even if he doesn’t break it. And he lets other people pick take the fall.”

“Looks like it.” His mother arched an eyebrow, an expression that was equal parts amusement and disgust. “Lately he’s been engaging in a little real estate speculation. Nothing illegal, though the word ‘shady’ does come to mind.”

“Nothing illegal. In other words, nothing we can use.”

“It’s proof that this isn’t a trustworthy person. So we shouldn’t let him get to us.”

Chaniel’s face shone up from the iPad’s screen, glossy and confident in his college track uniform. Mom had done all this to make Daniel feel better; why did he feel even worse? Quietly, he said, “Is he getting to you?”

“Do you mean, did I doubt for one solitary moment that you’re my son?” Her hand covered his. “No. Never.”

Daniel couldn’t help smiling at her. “And you can just trust that. How you feel. That’s all you need to be totally sure.”

“I can trust how I feel about you. There have been times in my life I thought that was the only thing I could trust. It’s going to take more than some yokel conman from the boonies to shake that. So don’t let it shake you either, all right?”

“All right.” He kissed her on the cheek and distracted her with some chit-chat about D.J. before walking out of her office, finding the nearest men’s room and splashing some cold water on his face to keep himself from throwing up.

As he leaned over the sinks, droplets trickling down his cheeks, Daniel gulped in one deep breath, then another. Was he the only one who saw how obviously Chaniel fit into the Meade family mold? He looked like Alex. He had Dad’s drive and Mom’s brains. He had a tenuous connection with law and order, which was just one more check in the “Chaniel’s telling the truth” column. Was Daniel the only Meade who’d never committed a felony? Well, besides D.J. So far.

Once again he reminded himself of all the assurances he’d been given – by his loving mother, his confident sister and sweet, constant Betty, who had more reason to doubt him than anyone else and yet always gave him her total faith. He knew all those assurances had been given sincerely, in kindness, and on one level he’d treasure them forever.

On another level, Daniel knew they didn’t mean a damn thing.

As if she could hear his distress across town, Betty chose that moment to text him; he looked down at the chime to see the words: _Call me when you’re free, ok? Out of my meeting and we should find some time for this weekend!_

He should have been celebrating. Making plans to drag her to his bed, or hers, or an obliging hotel if all else failed. Thinking of nothing but her.

Instead Daniel felt his fate coming toward him like a freight train, and there was no question of getting out of its way.

**

“Okay, so, the whole thing here is that we want to get people to actually look at your face,” Amanda said to her newest client. “Because they’ve seen everything else.”

Kerilyn Blumenthal – who refused to call herself anything other than Kerilyn B. – nodded solemnly. “So, like, some blue eyeshadow, like, really sparkly?”

Amanda imagined telling Marc that later. She’d wait until he had a mouthful of Evian. He’d spout off like the Bethesda fountain. “Well, first we’re going to start with a better haircut. And maybe some highlights. Real ones. Sun-In isn’t gonna cut it anymore.”

Kerilyn trotted obediently to the hairstylist Amanda had hired, which would give her a couple of hours to try to pull together a look. She’d always seen her stylist career as an opportunity to hobnob with the stars, and with Penelope’s career continuing to thrive, Amanda had dared to hope her next client would be bigger and better. Instead, her next client was Kerilyn B., who at this point was mostly known for starring in a sex tape with a C-list rapper. The only reason the thing was even getting web hits was because Kerilyn didn’t object to some stuff a whole lot of other girls would object to. Even Amanda, who considered herself sexually flexible (in the literal and figurative senses) would have drawn the line way short of that thing with the mayonnaise.

But Kerilyn B. was, for this week at least, a marginal celebrity, and if she could show up at a couple of events looking halfway decent, and she spouted off a few good sound bites, a reality show might come knocking. The Kardashians had started with less, after all. This was America, the land of opportunity. Anything could happen.

As Amanda went through her collection of miniskirts, trying to find one at just the right level of trashiness, she heard her phone ring to the tune of “Only Girl In The World.” Grinning, she leaped for it, “Hello, my sexy one.”

“Hey, there.” Tyler had the kind of smile you could hear over the phone. “Having a good day?”

“I got a new client! That makes two, three if you count my dad, so really two.”

“Amanda, that’s awesome! Who is it?”

“Kerilyn B.”

“Who the heck is – wait. The girl with the mayonnaise? Ugh. Oh, man, I just bought a tuna sub for lunch. I’m gonna have to throw it out.”

“She has real breakout potential,” Amanda insisted, as she considered and then discarded a skirt in metallic lace. “She also has seriously tragic roots, but that’s being taken care of as we speak.”

“If anybody can make that girl look classy, it’s you, baby.” As Amanda preened in the compliment, Tyler continued, “Listen, I wanted to run something by you.”

“Does it involve mayonnaise?”

“… you know, I’m just gonna skip lunch. Anyway. No. Cliff St. Paul called me today. Apparently a few magazines have been crazy to get their hands on the photos he shot of me that night.”

He didn’t have to say which night he meant. Amanda shuddered at the memory of the hostage crisis they’d all lived through together – in Marc’s case, just barely. Had they not thrown Victoria Hartley in the loony bin yet? They couldn’t do that fast enough for Amanda.

Tyler said, “Cliff says he wouldn’t even consider releasing them if they weren’t good, but they’re great. I mean, I don’t get this whole modeling thing at all, and even I can tell they’re kind of awesome. HUDSON has first dibs, of course. But Cliff said if I don’t want to sign the permissions, it’s no big deal. Personally, I think I’m okay with it, but I wanted to check in with you first.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”

“Because they’re a reminder of one of the most traumatic nights of our lives?”

“Puh-leeze. Like that should get in the way of a perfectly good modeling career.” More softly, she added, “Besides, your sweet face could never remind me of anything except how much I adore you.”

“Some of the photos have more to do with my abs than my sweet face.”

Amanda smiled wickedly. “Do you want to know what your abs remind me of?”

“Why don’t you show me later?” Tyler’s soft chuckle sent little tingles along her spine.

That sounded like her evening was going to be extremely high on the awesome scale. Fishing out a skirt covered in copper sequins, Amanda said, “Oh, but you should probably ask Daniel how he feels about it too.”

“Yeah, he’s probably on edge because of this whole Chaniel weirdness. Honestly, it’s got me kind of freaked – ”

“What does the Chaniel have to do with it?” Amanda had heard about the whole fracas from Tyler and considered it total nonsense. Nor could she imagine anybody taking the situation more seriously than she did herself, which was to say, not in the slightest. “But Daniel – he’s the kind of guy who would take that whole traumatic-memories thing seriously.”

For a moment, Tyler didn’t reply. His voice was kind of odd when he finally said, “Just Daniel? Not Marc, or maybe Betty?”

“Betty wouldn’t mind. She’s all generous and brave like that,” she sighed. “And Marc’s going to feel the same way about your modeling career that I do. I know he feels the same way about your abs.”

“Okay, then.” It seemed as if Tyler would say more, but he simply told her goodbye and hung up. Amanda didn’t take too much notice of it, because the more she looked at this coppery miniskirt, the more she was convinced she’d found the right way to cover Kerilyn B.’s overexposed ass.

**

At this point, Betty’s romantic plans for the weekend were starting to focus on Sunday night – not exactly a wild-and-crazy evening for most people, but they could make it work. She and Daniel weren’t exactly Amish, after all.

Sunday. She hated leaving him alone that long when he was so obviously in crisis; they could text and talk by phone, but it wasn’t the same. Still, Sunday was what they had to work with, and Betty was determined to make the best of it. By then, maybe, the DNA tests would be in and he’d be relieved. On cloud nine, even. And she would have done her sisterly and daughterly duty; most critically, she’d be returning to Manhattan to spend the night … either in her apartment, or in Daniel’s.

So that was a longer delay before she and Daniel could be alone together than Betty would have liked. However, it could work. It would work. Maybe their time together would be all the sweeter for the anticipation.

Unless she had spontaneously combusted from sexual frustration.

As Betty gathered everything together in her office at the end of the day, she mentally made a few notes: Rewrites from Jackson – loaded on her laptop, ready for whatever free time she somehow found this weekend. Sisterly bonding with Hilda – manicures at the corner salon Saturday morning, while Justin and Austin made sure Papi didn’t try to cook sausage for brunch. (For an extra bonus, her nails would be perfect for her date with Daniel.) Drafts from other NYRB authors for her to start fact-checking – in her folder. Yes, she could do this; somehow, she was balancing it all.

A new text chimed on her phone, and Betty looked down to see another message from Hilda: _I was thinking, we ought to do a movie night on Sunday! You could go in on Monday morning like you used to do. I rented Xanadu – shut up, you know you love it._

Betty did love Xanadu, in a frighteningly non-ironic sense, but this news made her groan. Hastily she tapped out: _Going back in to Manhattan Sunday night. Why don’t we watch tonight?_

 _I thought we were making a real sisters’ weekend out of this!_

 _Daniel and I had plans._

 _Hello, this is your family here._

What about this was Hilda not getting? Just as Betty prepared to ask this question via text, her phone rang. The screen showed her Daniel’s face, and she lit up. “Daniel! How are you?”

“Remember how crappy I was doing the last time we spoke?”

“—yeah?”

“Worse than that.”

“Oh, no.” Betty put her folders and bags back on her desk as she sank back into her chair. “At least tell me you ate something.”

“A banana and some lentil soup from the dirty deli.”

“You promised me you wouldn’t eat at the dirty deli anymore! Not after the trichinosis scare.”

“First of all, that was seven months ago, and second of all, I didn’t want to go to Subway. Did you see that vid with that Kerilyn B. girl?”

“Who?”

“Never mind. Trust me, you’re glad you missed it. That’s enough to put you off mayo for life.” Daniel’s heavy sigh sounded ragged even over the phone line. “I’m not getting trichinosis from the lentil soup.”

Betty personally suspected he might be getting the deli owner’s old dishwater in the lentil soup, but this wasn’t the right time to say so. “Listen, I know this is later than either of us wanted, but what do you think about Sunday night? For you and me, I mean.”

She expected him to either leap at the suggestion or argue that it was too long to wait. Instead, his response was a long silence before he said, “I don’t think I’ll be around Sunday night.”

“What do you mean?”

“Betty – I’m leaving New York tonight, for the whole weekend.”

“Where are you – oh, my God. You’re going to Missouri.”

“Ozarkville or bust,” Daniel confirmed. “I’m going to look up Bob and Cindy Pulaski. Maybe if I meet them, see them in the flesh … maybe then, I’ll know.”

The sheer badness of this plan was almost beyond Betty’s ability to comprehend. It was like attempting to describe the majesty of the Grand Canyon, or the fakeness of Cher’s face: Human language couldn’t quite get there. “Wait. You’re going to just walk up to them and say you might be their son? Even though you almost certainly aren’t? Daniel, you haven’t thought this through.”

“Of course I’m not going to walk up and say that! I’m going to come up with something else to tell them.”

“You mean, you’re going to lie. Does this sound like a good idea to you?”

“I can’t just sit here,” Daniel insisted. “I can’t take another couple of days of waiting around and hoping the test results come in before Monday. It’s time to do something. And I’m sorry about our date this weekend – sorrier than you can know, and I’ll make it up to you, I swear – ”

“You don’t have to worry about making this up to me. You’re the one I’m concerned about here. I mean – yes, of course, I’ll miss you, but – shouldn’t you wait? This is only going to mess with your head even worse, and you should probably stick close to your mom and Alexis, right?”

“I’m flying out tonight, because I have to look into this. I have to learn something that isn’t being spoon-fed to me by scientists or Chaniel or anybody else. This is something I have to do. Now. It can’t wait.”

She wasn’t nearly as confident about that, but she had to let him do this, she realized. He didn’t need any of her totally sound arguments why he shouldn’t do this. He only needed her support. So Betty swallowed her dismay and her disappointment. “You’ll find your answers. I know it.”

“Betty, I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time Daniel had spoken those words to her; they’d each said them as friends before. But even without everything that had happened for them in the past couple of months, Betty would have known this was different. The raw emotion in his voice seemed to push away the distance between them, as if she could see him, touch him, standing in front of her. “Daniel – ”

Voice rough, he continued, “My going away – it doesn’t mean I love you any less. I just have to know who it is who loves you.” Daniel hung up without another word, and Betty knew, that moment, that he was walking out of his old life.

**

The airport nearest to Ozarkville, Missouri, turned out to only have three flights a day, the last of which Daniel wasn’t going to be able to make. The next nearest airport was in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Daniel had never been to Tulsa, nor Oklahoma, and he had never wished to remedy that lack. He had no problem with the fact that they existed, but they were less places to him than concepts.

Still, he booked the tickets, made the world’s fastest connection at O’Hare and arrived around 11 pm at the smallest airport he’d ever seen outside the Caribbean. It wasn’t too small to have a rental car place, but by that hour the only vehicle left to him was a banana-yellow sub-compact. Daniel drove for two hours along a highway that seemed to be trafficked with no other cars, only eighteen-wheelers going so fast that their tailwinds shook his tiny car every time they blew past him. When he was within range of the town, he saw a small hotel and grabbed a room for the night. He’d find the Pulaskis in the morning.

As he fell, exhausted, into bed, he remembered his earlier hopes for his Friday night – which had also involved falling into bed, but preferably beside (on top of?) Betty. The thought of her, so far away from him when he’d hoped they’d be so close, made his heart constrict. He hoped Betty would forgive him for this. That the drama wouldn’t scare her off. That he’d come back to her with some kind of truth.

Then he closed his eyes tightly to blot out the pain, and collapsed into slumber too deep for dreams.

The next morning, he double-checked the address he’d gotten from the Meade Publications database, discovered to his surprise that GPS had mapped Ozarkville, and set out on his way to find “Rural Road 287,” whatever that might be. There seemed to be an awful lot of sky around here; it gave him the opposite of claustrophobia, whatever that might be. Daniel felt better with some tall buildings around him.

He also felt better with his cell phone on hand, but he’d tucked it deep into his bag and shut it off. If the DNA tests came in today instead of Monday, the email would come to him just as it would to Mom and Alexis. If he started checking for it now, the dread would overwhelm his every waking moment. So he’d shut it down, resolving to go without messages, calls or emails until the end of the day. By then, maybe he’d already have his truth.

Finally he drove up to a small white house with dark-green shutters that looked … pleasant. Not impoverished or tacky, the way his New Yorker mind had pictured anything on Rural Road 287. Not some Southern Gothic mansion, either. Just like any other average house that happened to have a tractor parked nearby. On the porch, a fat, elderly beagle yelped once as his car drove up, then put its head back down. Daniel got out of his car and sucked in a sharp breath at the stifling summer heat.

“Moogs, you hush,” said a middle-aged woman as she stepped onto the porch. She slipped on a pair of reading glasses to peer at the car. “Can I help you, there?”

“Hi,” Daniel said. He really, really should have planned this more in-depth; Betty might have had a point about what a rotten idea this was. The first thing that came to mind was, “I’m here from Meade Publications. In New York?”

“Oh! My goodness. Is this because Bob canceled his subscription to THE CUP? We swear, it’s nothing personal.” Then she leaned toward the door. “Bob! Get out here. It’s the magazine people. I told you we had to give them 30 days’ notice.”

“No, no, nothing like that!” Daniel thought fast. “You subscribe to HOT FLASH, right? You are Cindy Pulaski?”

“Yes – ”

“Well, we’re doing a – feature, where we drop in on several HOT FLASH readers chosen from around the country and report on the lives of, ah, real women who enjoy the magazine.” That actually sounded pretty credible. More to the point, it wasn’t a bad feature idea. Maybe he could pitch it to … Mom …

The word _Mom_ rang louder in his thoughts as Daniel stepped closer to see Cindy Pulaski for the first time. Before, the porch had shadowed her face somewhat; now, he could tell that she actually bore a strong resemblance to his mother. Uncanny, really: If Mom had let her hair go gray and wore T-shirts with denim culottes, she’d look just like this.

Then Bob Pulaski emerged, in jeans, short-sleeved button-up shirt and a John Deere hat. He looked even more like Bradford Meade than Cindy had resembled Claire. “I’m sick of that Tiger Woods,” Bob said, obviously still worrying about his canceled subscription. “And I spend more of my free time fishing these days.”

“It’s not about that,” Cindy said, patting his arm. “They’ve come to do a story about me. Because I read HOT FLASH. Can you imagine?”

They looked so unbelievably like his parents. At first Daniel felt a flush of triumph: _See, it makes sense now! Of course Chad looks like Alex did! If the parents are a lot alike, the kids would be too._

Then he thought, _It would also explain how a nurse mistook one set of parents in the hospital for another._

“Only if you’re comfortable with the idea, of course,” Daniel said. “We’re choosing people at random, but you can still opt out. I thought I’d – hang out with you for a day, just see what your world is like, get to know more about Cindy Pulaski. And you too, Bob.”

“Why would I be in HOT FLASH?” Bob asked, not unkindly.

“We cover our readers’ love lives, too,” Daniel improvised.

Cindy chuckled. “Remember that how-to article from last March? I’d think you’d be grateful to HOT FLASH around now.”

This made Bob grin, but sheepishly. “Oh, my. Cindy. We hardly met this man, Mr. – ”

“Call me Daniel.” Wow, they’d never seen TMZ or the POST or any of the other publications that made him famous in his man-whore days. And they didn’t look like they spent a lot of time in front of Fashion TV. Daniel rarely got a chance to make his own first impression these days; he found he liked it.

“Well, Daniel, you know what? I think it would be fun to be in a magazine.” Cindy put her hands on her hips. “And thank God, I cleaned house yesterday. We don’t have much on our slate, do we, Bob?”

“We need to make a run to the Wal-Mart, but I suppose that could wait ‘til tomorrow.” Bob’s large, friendly hand clapped Daniel on the shoulder. “Come on in.”

Cindy gasped. “Oh, goodness. Are we taking pictures? I want to have my hair done before any pictures.”

“No pictures,” Daniel promised. “Not today, anyway. Though at least you guys would match.” It was a small joke – Cindy’s lilac T-shirt picked up the purplish plaid pattern on Bob’s shirt – but he wanted to put them at ease, make them laugh. He found that he liked the Pulaskis. If this was all a false alarm, HOT FLASH really could do the story, just like he’d suggested. Why not?

“We’d match most days. Both of us love purple. Whole family does. Must be genetic.” Bob pointed at Daniel. “Looks like you do too!”

Daniel gazed down at his own purple T-shirt – the one that was the same shade as most of his favorite boxer shorts, sheets and ties – and swallowed hard.

**

“So Bobby and I haven’t actually talked about kids yet,” Hilda said. “Kinda weird, huh?”

Betty just nodded as Hilda talked, nonstop. Her knife scraped strawberry jam across a toasted English muffin as she attempted to focus on what her sister was saying. She’d been trying to focus ever since last night, when she’d come home and almost instantly been besieged with chit-chat and “Xanadu.” Justin and Austin had taken part in the movie marathon, insisting the camp value was too great to ignore, so the deeper sister conversations had been forced to wait until this morning.

But every passing second just worsened Betty’s distraction and concern. Daniel had, by now, dragged himself halfway across the country in search of answers. If he didn’t get them, the suspense was going to boil over; she thought he might really be at a breaking point. And if he did get answers – and those answers weren’t what he wanted to hear –

 _Don’t be stupid! Of course Chaniel’s not telling the truth. Why are you even worrying about this?_

Yet she had to worry. As long as Daniel was afraid, she remained afraid for him.

“Probably it’s because of the miscarriage. Makes us each feel weird about bringing it up.” Hilda’s head drooped a little, as the old disappointment shadowed her cheer. Betty put one hand on her shoulder, but Hilda went on, again blithe, “Still, we gotta talk about it. I mean, I’m about to turn 37. Not getting any younger, you know? If Bobby wants a kid or two of his own, we need to get on the stick. No pun intended.”

“Do you want another?” Betty tried again to think only of her sister, who she really had missed. “You never really talked about it, after Justin.”

“Seventeen hours of labor will do that to a girl,” Hilda sighed. “But honestly, I never thought about another because I was never in a position to think about it. It was all I could do to keep me and Justin fed, and that was with us living in this house. Now, though – seems a lot more doable.”

Unable to resist a smile as she poured herself more orange juice, Betty concluded, “You _do_ want another baby.”

“Maybe?” More serious than before, Hilda said, “I guess what it comes down to in life is being honest about what you want. Honest with yourself, first of all. I don’t want to ask Bobby about a baby because I think baby clothes are cute – though _they are_. Or because I think people expect us to have one. It has to be for the right reasons, you know? I have to be honest with myself about this. Really ask myself what matters most. And then, no matter what I decide … hold true to that no matter what.”

Betty asked herself what mattered most, and was honest with herself about what she wanted. In that moment, what she had to do became crystal clear.

She looked across the table at her sister and said, “I have to go to Missouri.”

“Huh?”

“Today. As soon as possible.” Betty got up from the table and hurried into the living room, where her laptop was leaned against the wall, recharging.

As she got it started up again, Hilda stomped into the room behind her, bathrobe trailing on the floor behind her. “What do you mean, today? And why Missouri?”

“Daniel’s in trouble,” Betty said. “The whole thing with Chaniel – ”

Hilda wrinkled her nose. “Daniel bought a dog?”

“What? No.” God, they really had done a rotten job of telling each other about their lives lately, hadn’t they? Betty quickly explained who Chaniel was and the mind game he was playing on Daniel as she surfed to Expedia and discovered that three flights a day would get her to the Ozarkville area – the first of which she could still make, if she packed and caught a gypsy cab to LaGuardia in a hurry.

Just as Betty scooted the mouse over to “purchase tickets,” Hilda said, “Okay, yeah, that sucks, but, Betty – you and me – this weekend was supposed to be about family. You know? Family comes first.”

“I know. It does.” Betty clicked. She’d be eating ramen noodles the rest of the month, but the tickets were hers. “And Daniel is family. You know that as well as I do.”

After a long moment, Hilda nodded. “This is a pretty far cry from him making you go into Manhattan to pick out his shirts for him. No, you’re right. It’s important. Go. I just – I miss my baby sister.”

“I miss my big sister.” Betty clutched Hilda to her in a fierce embrace, and for a moment – with Hilda in her fuzzy robe and Betty in her striped pajamas – they might have been kids again, Hilda the too-cool high schooler and Betty only a child, able to admit they adored each other only when nobody else was around to see. “Soon. I promise. We’re going to talk about everything in the world.”

“Okay, okay.” Already over the sentimentality, Hilda gave Betty a push toward the stairs. “Get packing, would you? Before Daniel gets into even more trouble. Honestly, I’m not sure whether that boy can breathe anything but New York air.”

**

“You’ve never heard of Frisbee golf?” Alexis grinned as she and DJ walked near the boat pond in Central Park. The day was hot but not searing … just a hint of July’s approach in the air. The sky was blue, she was with her son, and within a few hours, maybe, she’d be able to put the whole Chaniel mess behind her. Right now, it was good to concentrate only on DJ. “What kinds of things do they teach you in school?”

“Nothing with Frisbees or golf.” DJ laughed at the thought. “It sounds fun, though. How do you play?”

Alexis explained the rules, though she had to leave out all the parts about drinking beer, which were of course half the point of Frisbee golf. Still, if it was something she and DJ could do together, she’d enjoy it. “What do you say? Want to learn?”

“Yeah, sure. Not today – ”

“We’re kinda short on Frisbees, huh? But we could get one. I think FAO Schwartz is down around the bottom of the park.” She dimly remembered childhood visits there, turning happily toward the beautiful dolls before her father pushed her back into the model planes department.

Nodding, DJ said, “But we should get Daniel to play with us, too. I bet he knows how to play Frisbee golf.”

“… he does.” It was one of the few sports where they were evenly matched, or at least appeared to be after they’d split a six-pack.

“Where is Daniel this weekend?”

“In Missouri.” Alexis thought this errand was kind of ridiculous, and it had upset their mother. If it kept Daniel busy, though, it wasn’t totally worthwhile. No, his sudden departure wasn’t the reason she suddenly felt her sunny mood clouding over. Careful to keep her voice neutral, she said, “You were excited to come back to New York and see Daniel, huh?”

“Yeah, of course!” DJ was distracted for a moment by some nearby skateboarders, but the grin on his face was recognizably for his uncle. “Weren’t you?”

“Sure.” It was true, wasn’t it? Alexis wanted it to be true. But she couldn’t ignore the ugly jealousy gnawing at her now. Lightly, she added, “I guess he’s your favorite.”

DJ stopped, gazed up at her and then did something he’d never done before: He took her hand. Startling for any near-teenage boy in public, but not as startling as the way it made her heart melt.

He said only, “I can love both of you, right?”

Alexis couldn’t speak. It was the first time she’d heard that word out of DJ’s mouth, in English or French. She just nodded.

“I miss Daniel, is all. It had been so long. And I know you do too. All of us are nicer to each other when Daniel’s around.”

Although Alexis had never put it to herself that way, she had to admit DJ had a point. Not that they were always great to each other even with Daniel nearby – but it was always worse without him. Daniel had a sweetness to him nobody else in the family shared; when she was younger, not yet a parent, Alexis had sometimes seen that as weakness. But they weren’t the same thing, not at all.

“Yeah,” she said. “Daniel’s the glue that keeps the family together.”

“Glue?”

“It’s just a saying we have in English.”

DJ’s eyes kept flicking over to the skateboarders. “Can I watch for a few minutes? Please?”

“Have at it.” She watched him lope off toward the kids his own age, eager and confident, happier than she ever remembered being when she was young. Her own mood was lifting to match his. _DJ said he loved me!_

Then she heard, “Out for a run?”

Alexis turned to see Chaniel standing there in running shorts and a college T-shirt not unlike what she would have worn a few years ago. Of course, his college T-shirt said UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS instead of anyplace in the Ivy League, but otherwise it was like coming face to face with her younger self.

“Sure,” she said. Better that than admitting she was here with DJ: She didn’t want this goon coming anywhere near her son. Besides, she’d dressed in yoga pants, camisole and tennis shoes; she could pull off the lie. “Just like you, I guess.”

“Like half the city of New York,” he replied, and it was true; the park was packed. It never ceased to surprise Alexis, how you could run into people on the street in a city of eight million, but you could and you did – and on a warm, bright day like this, there were probably at least 20 or 30 acquaintances of hers somewhere in Central Park.

Why did she have to run into this one?

“Haven’t warmed up yet,” Chaniel said. “Want to join me? Just for a lap.”

Alexis’ eyes met his, and she recognized the challenge for what it was. She’d said exactly this to Daniel several times; inevitably, it was the prelude to a race.

Except Chaniel didn’t yet know who he was dealing with.

“Sure,” she said. DJ had his cell phone on him, and besides, he wouldn’t budge for another half hour at least, not while skateboarding tricks were going down. “Why not?”

She and Chaniel fell into step, a slow pace at first – then a proper run. Steady, sure, but fast.

 _He has good form,_ Alexis thought. _But mine’s better._

“Must be tougher now,” Chaniel called. “Since you need a sports bra.”

“Look at it this way,” she shot back. “I don’t need a jockstrap.”

He laughed, and Alexis couldn’t tell if he was amused by her joke or just happy to realize he could bait her so easily.

 _Why am I doing this? Why are any of us letting him set the pace and the course? Well, I’ll teach him a lesson soon enough._

As they rounded the turn that would bring them back toward the boat pond, Alexis chose her moment, took a deep breath, and poured it on. Her feet went faster, then faster; her arms pumped as she gave it every bit of speed she had – and she had a lot. This was where she always defeated her college rivals … where she always left Daniel in the dust …

And it was where Chaniel passed her.

Impossible. Yet it was happening. She was giving it everything she had, all her considerable strength, and yet Chaniel was quicker. He was pushing himself just as hard as she was, if not harder; instead of grimacing in pain, he was grinning. He loved beating her, she realized. He loved the kill – even more than she did.

He rushed past the place where they’d started – the tacitly acknowledged finish line – and laughed out loud as they both loped to a halt. While Alexis leaned over, hands on her knees, to gulp in a breath, he said, “Didn’t know I still had it in me!”

“Thought I still – had it – in me.” She wiped her sweaty brow, hoping the gesture would hide some of her chagrin.

Chaniel shrugged. “Guess it runs in the family.” He gave her a wink before turning to go.

 _Oh, God,_ Alexis thought. _What if it does run in the family?_

**

Lime green weekender bag over one shoulder, Betty was prepared to hail a cab out to the Pulaski home from the airport. There were only two problems: She didn’t have their address, and apparently not every single town in the world had taxis.

Both problems were easily taken care of once she’d taken an obliging shuttle bus to the center of town, where she found a Waffle House. They had a phone directory thinner than some catalogs Betty regularly received, and the Pulaskis kept their number listed. Then her waitress, Sheryl, turned out to be super-friendly. The two of them started talking about Sheryl’s carrot earrings, and by the end of her lunch-and-research session, when Betty asked where Rural Road 287 was, Sheryl offered her a ride out that way without even asking why Betty needed to go there.

At any rate, within two hours of her arrival in town, Betty got dropped off in front of a nice little white house with good wishes and the email address of the lady who made the cute carrot earrings.

It was the first time during her whole headlong rush to Missouri that Betty felt any doubt. Now she had to walk across the yard and knock on that door. She knew she’d find Daniel there; the resolve in his voice during their last phone call was enough to tell her that he wouldn’t have turned back.

But would he even want her there? This was delicate. Sensitive. If he’d seen by now that there was no way Chaniel was telling the truth, Daniel probably felt embarrassed by his dramatic actions. Betty didn’t blame him for a moment – but he might blame himself. Or what if the Pulaskis had figured out why he was there and were freaking? They didn’t know her from anybody. Worse: What if they were in on their son’s scam? They could be messing with Daniel’s head. Or now they knew the game was up, and they were taking him hostage!

Betty stared at the house, which now seemed to loom before her as ominous as the Bates Motel. She forced herself to keep going, step by step, as she fished in her weekender for her phone. If the Pulaskis were crazed kidnappers, she’d just call police. Oh, God, did this place even get cell phone reception?

Then the front door swung open, making her jump – but it was Daniel, more at ease than she’d seen him in weeks. “I can get it – won’t take a minute!” he called behind him as he loped down the front steps. As he turned and saw her, though, he froze in place, clearly so shocked he hardly believed his eyes.

“Hi,” Betty said in a small voice. “I hope it’s okay that I – I mean, I don’t want to intrude if – ”

“Oh, my God. You’re really here.” Daniel swept her up in his arms and twirled her around in a circle. His embrace almost took the breath out of her, and she could hear his voice crack. “You came all the way here!”

Laughing, dizzy, Betty hung on until her feet finally touched earth again. “I wanted to be with you. Right or wrong, no matter what – Daniel, I’m with you.”

For a moment he could say nothing else, but his awestruck smile told her the whole story.

At the door of the house, a graying beagle bayed at her once, then wagged its tale. A man emerged. “Simmer down, Moogs. Well, who have we here?”

Daniel straightened; they’d just broken from their embrace, and she could see he was still using some kind of cover story. “This is Betty Suarez. She is a journalist, ah, friend of mine from New York, and I thought she might work with me on the story.”

The story? Daniel must have gone with the magazine as a cover … which was actually pretty good thinking. Betty resolved to play along.

“We’ve got even more reporters coming in from Manhattan?” The man looked eerily like Bradford Meade, Betty thought; give him a power suit and take away 15 pounds, and they could be doubles. However, she never remembered Mr. Meade appearing … uncertain, which Mr. Pulaski did now. “This is a whole lot of publicity for me and Cindy all of a sudden.”

“I’m very nonthreatening!” Betty ventured, with her friendliest smile.

Mr. Pulaski clearly didn’t agree, but he just as clearly wanted to seem calm and confident, so he put on a brave smile and gave them the thumbs-up. Betty gasped, and Daniel turned to her and mouthed, _You see?_

Then he looked back at Mr. Pulaski and said, sheepishly, “Uh, I should probably also mention that Betty’s my girlfriend. We missed each other. Which has a lot to do with why she’s here than any publicity blitz.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Mr. Pulaski’s smile became much more genuine. “Cindy, we’ve got young love out in the front yard.”

“Not the dogs again,” called a woman’s voice. “Use the hose!”

Daniel started laughing, and Betty couldn’t resist a grin. “Please, no hose.”

Mr. Pulaski said, “Well, as long as I’m teaching one of you to fish, I might as well teach two.”

Betty blinked. “Daniel, you’re – learning how to fish?”

“We made a deal,” Daniel said. “I show him my iPad; he teaches me how to land a trout.”

“Sounds fair,” she agreed. At least he’d hit it off with this man who looked – and maybe acted? – a whole lot like a man who could be his dad. The heavy fear that had hung over her for days finally lifted, and Betty found she could deal with the absurdity and uncertainty of it all so much better now that she and Daniel were again side by side.

“I’ll let you finish saying hello to your journalist, ah, friend. Cindy and I can get the pie out of the icebox.” Mr. Pulaski went back indoors, giving them another moment alone.

Taking Daniel’s hand, Betty said, “You seem okay, actually. Are you?”

“I am now.” Daniel shook his head, still smiling at her open-mouthed with wonder. His voice almost a rasp, he said, “You amaze me.”

Betty pulled him down for a kiss. As their lips met, she knew – no matter how strange it was that they were here, they were exactly where they needed to be. Together.

**

Amanda’s apartment was, as of now, Kerilyn B. central.

Her schedule covered one wall; potential outfits covered another. Marc had said Amanda needed to make the girl hire an assistant, pronto, but for the time being, Amanda was the only support Kerilyn had and it was up to her to make it work.

“Okay, so, now she’s doing MTV after lunch on Monday, and then there’s the Smirnoff bash. I’m thinking white, for maximum contrast with the fake Cheetoh tan. What do you think?” she called, as she held up a spandex minidress – classic tacky, but the visible blue thong beneath would take it down a notch to the true Kerilyn B. level.

From his place on the sofa, Tyler just shrugged, “I guess that works. You’re better at this kind of thing than I am.”

“Too true.” Which was only her teasing him, and yet Tyler sank down further in the sofa. He’d been kind of gloomy all day, really; it was pretty annoying of him.

Maybe that was selfish – Amanda now occasionally asked herself this question, because Tyler brought it out in her – but she thought Tyler’s weird mood was even more selfish. This was her big break! Kerilyn B. was nobody from nowhere, and she did this one tacky thing that should have bought her one joke on Jimmy Kimmel, max. But then Amanda had sent her out in that coppery miniskirt with bright white panties on and made sure the photogs caught a flash of it by instructing Kerilyn on the absolute worst way to get a car. Upskirts sans underwear were so 2007 – but the panties were perversely sexier. And tackier. And attention-getting. Now Kerilyn had more invites than she knew what to do with, and there was a possibility of an endorsement deal with Hellman’s. That was what you called some expert styling.

Was Tyler congratulating her on that? He was not. He was moping on her sofa like his cat just died, or “One Tree Hill” got canceled, or something else awful had happened.

He was still her sweet baby, though, so instead of snapping at him, she said, “What’s the matter?”

“I guess I’m kind of freaked out.”

“By the mayo thing? We can totally switch to mustard.”

“No. By the whole Chaniel thing.”

“You can’t take that guy seriously.”

“I don’t. At least – I don’t want to. But now Daniel’s taken off for Missouri, and Alexis was acting really weird when she and DJ got in this afternoon, and Yoga keeps saying she can smell trouble. If anybody could smell trouble, it would be her.”

Amanda found that even the mention of this annoyed her. “Listen. Daniel is one hundred percent total Meade. It’s so obvious. I can’t believe you’d even doubt him for a second after he came back to save us during the whole creepy hostage thing.”

Tyler gave her a look. “You get really defensive about Daniel.”

“Well, duh. He’s my friend.”

“He used to be more than that.”

She shrugged. “Back in ye olden days.”

“As in March?”

Amanda had almost forgotten about Daniel/Amanda 2: Electric Boogaloo, a.k.a. her one stint in grief counseling. “Oh, right, then too, but that was no big.”

Tyler’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, ‘then too’?”

It occurred to Amanda only then that, while she had never set out to lie to Tyler about Daniel, she had never precisely spelled out how involved they’d been. She’d never seen the need. Her feelings for Daniel were totally over; Daniel’s feelings for her had never been closer than they were now – he actually liked her more when they weren’t sleeping together, which was weird, but whatever. Besides, she’d always figured Daniel filled Tyler in on the deets.

But apparently Daniel had figured she was doing the filling in. Which meant Tyler was only now learning that she and Daniel hadn’t been a one-time thing.

“Um,” she said. “Well, we did go out before.”

“Before when?”

“Before the other time we went out.”

Tyler rose slowly from the sofa. “When you defended him yesterday, I thought – I had this moment where I – but I said, no. That’s stupid. Don’t be jealous of how your girlfriend feels loyal to your brother. They’re friends. They might have gone out, if things had been different, but that’s all there is to it. But it’s not, is it?”

Pleading, Amanda stepped over a pile of six-inch metallic heels on the floor to get closer to him. “Tyler, come on. You know I only love you.”

His expression gentled, but only for a moment. “I wish you’d been clear with me about this from the beginning.”

“I wasn’t lying to you, I swear. I really thought you understood everything.”

“Just tell me this.” Tyler took a deep breath. “Did you ever have sex with Daniel?”

Amanda clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God, you understood nothing.”

Tyler went pale, and Amanda’s stomach did the same nauseating flip she’d felt the first time she watched Kerilyn B.’s sex tape. She wanted to say something to make it all better, but she had a feeling the only thing he wanted to hear was that she and Daniel had never slept together. That was a massive lie beyond her ability to tell, even at her lowest – and she could never be at her lowest, not with Tyler.

But as he stormed out and slammed the door behind him, she felt herself falling down to that low place all over again.

**

 _I really like these people_ , Daniel thought.

They were seated around the Pulaski family dinner table, after a long afternoon that had been half-successful, half-not: Bob was definitely buying an iPad, but Daniel and Betty had failed so spectacularly at fishing that they were now dining on take-out barbecue, which was so delicious it almost made up for that time Daniel accidentally snagged the hook on his own shoe.

Under the pretext of reporting, he’d learned a lot about the Pulaskis: They appeared to be very happily married; they were friendly and open to a point that Daniel, as a New Yorker, considered almost bizarre; and they owned a pumpkin farm. Daniel had never once in his life thought about the fact that pumpkins had to be grown somewhere, instead of magically appearing at Halloween. He got Cindy’s opinions about HOT FLASH, Bob’s opinions about small towns versus big cities, and jokes from both of them about his pretty girlfriend.

(Of course, they’d adored Betty on sight. How could you not? Daniel no longer remembered that this was even possible.)

However, only now, over dinner, did he dare to venture the question that had been on his mind all day: “You know, we haven’t talked about children. Do you have any?”

Across the table, Betty paused with her glass of iced tea only halfway to her lips. But he thought both of them managed to keep their expressions neutral.

“We have two,” Cindy said. “Our youngest is our daughter, Julie. She’s 28. Prettiest thing you ever laid your eyes on. If you weren’t so crazy about Betty here, I’d probably try to fix you two up.”

Uh-oh. “Um, did she ever visit New York, or work there in the modeling or entertainment industries? Or maybe food service? Bartending?” It all came out of Daniel’s mouth in a rush.

Bob and Cindy shared a confused look, but Bob said, “No, Julie’s never been anywhere near the big city if she could help it. She’s a country girl. Big animals vet. Has a practice in the Kansas City suburbs.”

That was a huge relief. Daniel thought his week was weird enough without having any incest scares thrown in.

It was Betty who calmly said, “Who’s your older child?”

“Our son, Chad.” Cindy’s voice was heavy now. “We haven’t spoken to him in a few years.”

“Cindy, I don’t know.” Bob leaned onto the table, and somehow he looked older than he had before. “This isn’t something I’m ready to have in a magazine.”

“I don’t want to pry.” This was a huge lie, and Daniel knew it – he longed to pry. But already he felt protective enough toward Bob and Cindy not to want to hurt them. The subject of Chad Pulaski clearly hurt them a lot. “It’s okay.”

“It’d be better if none of this was in HOT FLASH,” Cindy said. “But – what is it they say? Off the record. That’s it. Off the record, Chad was always a fish out of water here. He never fit in. So bright, so handsome – but he always wanted something besides what he had.”

“Never tried to make him be a farmer,” Bob murmured. “Always told him, anything you want to be, son. The thing is, he wanted to be someone else. And that never changes, no matter how hard you try.”

 _I’m not so sure_ , Daniel thought. But his mind was racing. Was assuming false identities maybe some kind of psychological sickness Chaniel had? It would explain a lot.

“A few years ago, we learned – well, I was ill, and – ” Cindy’s voice trailed off. Then, more strongly, she said, “Let’s just say we learned some things as a family that I thought we could have handled as a family. But Chad wouldn’t have any of it. He walked away from us, and I don’t know if he’ll ever come back. But we’ll always love him. That’s all there is to say about it.”

Her story matched Chaniel’s, as far as it went – and by now, Daniel was positive that Cindy and Bob weren’t in on the scam.

Betty had caught it too, and her saw her dark eyes searching his, concerned that he might break down or freak out. Both of those sounded like excellent ideas, but Daniel found he had to ask something else first: “Are you okay, Cindy?”

“What’s that?” She was clearly distracted by her painful memories of her son.

“You said you were sick,” Daniel explained. “But you’re better now?”

A soft smile lifted some of the sadness from her expression. “Yes, I’m fine. You’ve got yourself a sweet one here, Betty.”

“I sure do.” Betty brushed her fingers along his forearm, and the touch soothed him more than anything else could have done.

Bob put his napkin beside his plate. “Tell you what. Why don’t you two walk down to the back pond? It’s pretty at night, particularly when we’ve got a full moon like we do. Let me and Cindy clear the table.”

“We can help,” Betty began, but Daniel turned his hand over to capture hers.

“I’d like to see that moon,” he said. Her face changed slightly as she realized what he’d seen; after the difficult conversation about Chad, Bob and Cindy wanted some time alone.

They went out together, hand in hand. For a while the only sounds were their feet on the grass and the rhythmic chirping of insects and frogs. “I forget,” Daniel murmured. “How quiet it is everywhere else.”

“And how many stars there are.” Betty pointed upward at a spangled sky totally unlike the electric-fogged night of New York City. The heat, which had been nearly unbearable at noon, had settled into a pleasant, enveloping warmth. Tonight would have been dazzlingly beautiful at any time; with Betty here beside him, it was almost perfect.

But there was no forgetting why he was here.

The Pulaskis had a weathered white bench by the pond, and they sat together, side by side. Daniel said, “Well, you heard her. The stories match.”

“It still doesn’t mean anything,” Betty insisted.

He breathed out. “I know. Chaniel could be mixing the truth in with the lies. Only the DNA can tell us anything for sure.”

“That’s not what I was saying.”

Confused, Daniel looked at her. “What do you mean?”

A soft breeze fluttered Betty’s long hair; her creamy yellow dress seemed to be made of the moonlight. She put one hand over his – the only way in which they touched. “When you told me you were coming down here, you said that you had to know who it is who loves me.”

Daniel nodded. That seemed obvious.

She shook her head, smiling gently at him. “I already know who that is. It’s the guy who bought me this necklace when I lost my first one.” The fingers of her free hand found the B at her throat for a moment. “It’s the guy who read that entire childish diatribe about him on my blog but still got up at the Blobbys in front of a booing crowd to talk about how wonderful I was. The guy who held me after Jesse hooked up with Amanda, the one who told me I was beautiful. The one who applauded for me when I walked on the MODE catwalk. The guy who stood with me on the Brooklyn Bridge. That’s the man who loves me – the man I love.”

The words washed over him, and Daniel felt as though he couldn’t speak. The idea that Betty loved him back – knowing him, inside and out, she still loved him back –

It was the first time that being “Daniel Meade” had been meaningless. All the money, all the baggage, everything else just dropped away. Daniel felt as if he were setting foot on Earth for the first time in his life, touching down, solid and real. As if his skin and flesh were all he’d ever had and all he would ever need. It was enough to be himself, and that had to be true, because somehow, this miracle had happened. Betty loved him.

Even more softly, Betty said, “It doesn’t matter what your birth name was. It doesn’t matter what your DNA might be. I know who you really are, down deep. That’s why I love you – and that will never change.”

**

They kissed for a long time, twined together on the bench. Betty linked her arms around Daniel’s neck as she gasped in one deeper breath, let him kiss his way down her throat, then pulled him back to her lips. The warmth and nearness of him was overpowering, but it was the rawness of the emotion between them – the lack of any separation, now, except the physical – that made her feel almost weak with need.

When finally they broke apart, he whispered, “We should probably go back in. Say goodbye.”

“I didn’t get a hotel room,” Betty confessed. “I thought – I thought I’d stay with you.”

“God, yes.” Daniel kissed her again, even more passionately than before, but only for a few moments. She understood; they had somewhere else to go.

Together they said goodnight to the Pulaskis, who seemed to have recovered their calm – and whose gentle, knowing smiles suggested they understood enough of what was going on to let Betty and Daniel leave in a hurry.

“I’ll call about the story,” Daniel promised, and Betty realized he already cared about them – and would even when they proved not to be his birth parents. Why had she worried about him being overcome? He had a bigger heart than most people gave him credit for. Her included, sometimes. Himself included. But now, tonight, they both understood the truth.

Somehow they managed to get back to Daniel’s hotel, despite reckless placement of hands on thighs and some feverish making out at stoplights. It was a small place, not ritzy, but not cheap or ugly like she’d briefly feared; the room was cool, a welcome respite from the summer heat, and the bed was broad and soft when they sank onto it.

“I love you,” Daniel kept whispering as they struggled with their clothes, breaking apart only long enough to take off his shirt, then her dress. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you.”

She shed everything except her B necklace; his hands covered hers when she went for the clasp, and she realized he wanted her to leave it on. That felt right, somehow. As right as the sensation of his hands on her body, his skin against her skin.

Before, when they were first becoming involved, Betty had experienced some intimidation at the thought of sex with Daniel, worldly as he was. But only once that whole night – the first time she saw him naked next to her, his whole sculpted body laid bare, and she thought _Oh, my God, he’s perfect_ – did any of that hesitation cross her mind. Even then it vanished as he pulled her atop him, lips on her collarbones, her shoulders, her breasts. This was Daniel – her Daniel, the man she knew and loved better than any other – and nothing else could get in their way.

When they were finally moving together, moaning and beyond words, Betty knew that she’d never experienced anything like this. Sex, yes. Good sex, even. But she’d never felt as if she were giving anyone her whole self, beyond her body, without any hesitation or doubt. Nobody had ever given this to her, either, but she knew Daniel was totally with her in a way no other man had ever been.

 _This is what I really wanted,_ she thought in a daze. _What we both really needed. This is what matters most._

**

Alexis paced along the third-floor balcony of the house, longing for a cocktail. But this was Mom’s house, and Tyler’s, which was why she had nothing to comfort her but sparkling cider.

“I’m concerned about Tyler,” Mom said, folding her arms across her chest. Her jade silken jacket gleamed; Mom’s hair was expertly coiffed. Still, her mother was going on with business as usual. “He seemed extremely moody after he got back from Amanda’s. Any idea what’s up?”

“Your denial may have been a necessary survival mechanism during our childhoods, Mom, but right now, it’s just getting in the way.” Alexis put her cider down and turned to face her mother. “Did you even hear what I told you?”

“About Chaniel?” Mom spat out the nickname Daniel had given the man with the deepest contempt. “Honestly. Why are you all letting this man get to you?”

“Because he’s credible.”

 _And because I never realized until now how much I needed Daniel to be my brother. How much we all need him. He’s the glue._

Downstairs, Alexis could hear DJ and Yoga laughing; apparently he was teaching her how to play Kingdom Hearts. The Meades had turned from a dysfunctional, angry family to a family where even that friendship was possible. How much of that would go away if Daniel wasn’t Daniel? She didn’t know.

Just then, her mother’s phone chimed; Mom lifted it and smiled in triumph. “The DNA lab – the premier testing facility in the city. They put a rush on the results for us. So let’s take a look and put this stupid matter behind us for good.”

Alexis stood at her mother’s shoulder as the file opened on the screen. At first all the numbers failed to make much sense, but the conclusions at the bottom would spell everything out.

They scrolled down. They read. Alexis felt her mother go very, very still.

She wanted to put her arms around Mom, but she couldn’t move. _All Alexis could do was think, We just lost the glue._

 

END OF EPISODE

 

 _Tune in to “Season Five: New York, New York” for the next episode – “My One and Only.”_

 _(Songs: “Family Tradition,” Hank Williams Jr.; “Science and Faith,” The Script; “God Put A Smile Upon Your Face,” Coldplay)_


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